


Earth Angel

by aBarlowRose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cutesy, Dancing, Diners, Dinner, Earth Angel, Ficlet, First Dates, Fluff, Human Castiel, Jukeboxes, M/M, Music, One Shot, Pie, Romance, Short, Short One Shot, Slow Dancing, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:16:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16618808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aBarlowRose/pseuds/aBarlowRose
Summary: Cas makes Dean go on a proper date with him. To a diner, that is.





	Earth Angel

It takes several years after the fall for Castiel to convince Dean to go on a proper date with him—if a late night diner run can even be considered a proper date. They’ve certainly had dinner together before, but it has always been burgers in the bunker, or grabbing something rushed on a job, and Cas puts his foot down; he will have milkshakes and jukeboxes at least, or nothing at all.

Dean drives, of course, but Cas grits his teeth and bears it. When they pull into the parking lot of the chromed, tubular building, Cas jumps out of the car and runs to Dean’s door, smirking as he pulls it open with a flourish.

“You’d better hope they have some goddamned good pie here,” Dean snaps at him, getting out.

“They do. I checked.”

Dean looks up at the green and pink neon, takes a deep breath, and walks toward the door shaking his head. Cas steps in behind him, resting a light but firm hand on the small of his back, and after a moment’s hesitation, Dean opens the door and they walk in. It’s nearly ten o'clock in the evening and there is no one in the restaurant except a plump waitress with a massive pile of auburn curls on top of her head, a rough looking regular nursing a cold coffee, and the sounds of the cook washing dishes in the back. Cas eyes an old jukebox near the opposite end of the counter as he steers Dean to the corner window booth; they slide in on either side, Dean with his back to the wall.  

Castiel smiles a little as he watches Dean’s tree-light eyes (the precise word is “kawanami,” he remembers from somewhere) sweep the place, identifying the exits and potential points of cover. Reaching out, he squeezes one of Dean’s hands. "Relax. It’s a date, not a hunt.“

"Says the ex-angel.”

“He certainly is an angel, isn’t he,” the waitress says, smiling broadly as she comes up next to them. Marie, as her name tag reads, looks Castiel up and down and gives Dean a wink. "How long have you two sweet things been together?“ she asks cheerfully.  

"We’re not exactly—”

“Three years, seven months, twenty seven days,” Cas interjects patiently.

“Oops, sorry I asked,” the waitress winks again. "What can I get for you boys?“

"I’ll have three blueberry pancakes, an egg over easy, side of bacon, and a black coffee, please,” Dean says.

“And for me, an everything burger with fries, and a jumbo chocolate milkshake—thanks,” Cas orders.

“Coming right up.” The waitress retreats and hollers the order back to the cook. Dean follows her with his gaze and catches the look Cas gives him. 

“What?”

“You know what.”

Dean rolls his eyes and eagerly takes his coffee from the waitress’s hands as she returns with the drinks.  

Cas pulls his milkshake toward him; it is heaped with whipped cream and a bright maraschino cherry balances precariously on top, while a long-handled spoon and candy-striped straw threaten to recede into the delicious depths. Cas grabs the spoon and licks it off, giving Dean a flirtatious glance and having the satisfaction of seeing a blush rise to his cheeks. He takes a sip from the straw, still managing to stick his nose in the whipped cream. Dean laughs and wipes the cream away with a napkin before swiping the cherry for himself.  

Again, Cas catches Dean’s eye, but this time the look he gives him is immeasurably joyous. His blue eyes— Dean always thinks of the sky in Lawrence before storm clouds rolled in— are steady and serene, happily taking in the sight of the man in front of him, and Dean can feel his cheeks flush even darker at the pleasure of that gaze.  

They sit in contented silence, listening to the waitress chatter at the regular, whose name is apparently Paul, about her “sugar daddy” and her poodle; she is the only sound in the place except the sizzle of the griddle in the back and the occasional rush as a semi-truck bustles past outside. Dean’s legs are extended and crossed at the ankles, the toes occasionally brushing against Cas’s calf, and Castiel’s hand has found its way back to rest on Dean’s. He only moves his arm when Marie returns with the food, and they both dig in. 

Meals aren’t much of a time for talking when it comes to the Winchester clan, and Cas and Dean don’t say more than ten words to each other before they are almost finished with their food. Finally, watching Dean take a last bite of blueberry pancake, and licking his fingers himself, Cas asks, “How was it?”

“The pancakes are killer. Got to remember that for next time,” Dean replies, and Cas smiles at the ‘next time’.  

“How about some pie?”

“You bet your ass. Marie, what kind of pie do you have?” Dean calls across the diner.

“Pecan, shoefly, apple, cherry, blueberry, and banana cream, dearie. What’s your pleasure?” she chirps.

“Let me think about it?”

“Take all the time you need, sugarplum.”

Cas grins as Dean good-naturedly mumbles something about being a “goddamned grown-ass man.”

“While you decide,  _sugarplum_ , I’m going to run to the bathroom. I expect you to still be here when I get back.”

Cas stands up and walks away, and Dean looks out the window. The diner is bright, but it sits along a stretch of road way up in the mountains, and he can just make out the stars through the glare on the window. He names each one he can see a different kind of pie and tries to pick which one he likes best, but his mind keeps drifting back to storm clouds and raindrops.  

He doesn’t even notice the music until a hand rests gently on his shoulder and he turns to find Castiel standing next to him, the other hand extended in invitation.  

“Dance with me.”

It’s not actually a request, and Dean gets to his feet right away, but he’s stiff and embarrassed and doesn’t immediately follow Cas as he steps away from the table. Dean can’t quite hear the words of the doo-woppy song playing on the jukebox through the surging of blood in his ears, and all he can do is trust the steady hand grasping his. Cas leads them to the middle of the space between their table and the counter, and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, drawing him close. 

“They’re going to stare,” Dean hisses at Cas, regaining some self-control, but Castiel ignores him and begins to sway to the gentle rhythm.  

“Cas, stop, we’re making a scene.”

“I can assure you, Dean, that we are not. There are three other people in this diner, and none of them are in the least bit inconvenienced by two men who love each other dancing quietly in a corner. So shut up and move your big feet.”

Dean complies, wrapping his own arms around Cas’s shoulders, and slowly Castiel can feel the muscles under his hands relax, the other man’s feet finding their way more easily, his breathing leveling. Eventually, Dean closes his eyes and finds he can hear the words of the song.  

_Earth angel, earth angel, please be mine— my darling dear, love you all the time.  I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you._

A sudden and untraceable warmth creeps into Dean’s stomach, flooding outward into his limbs and making his head feel light. He opens his eyes to find Cas staring at him again.

“You’re my earth angel, you know.”  

Dean leans down impulsively and presses a soft, quick kiss to Cas’s lips before closing his eyes again and resting his forehead on Cas’s.  

“Twenty nine,” he says quietly.

“What?” Cas asks.

“You said three years, seven months, and twenty seven days. You’re wrong. It’s twenty nine.”  

Cas inhales sharply and squeezes Dean a little tighter before whispering back, “So it is.”

They seem to drift— Dean is unable to tell how many steps they have taken or if they are even moving on solid ground anymore. All he knows are the strong arms wrapped around his waist and the downy hair and warm skin brushing against his own. He feels a pulse beat under his wrists and thinks it might belong to either of them— their breathing has aligned.

The music fades and they are left standing in silence, still rocking slightly on the echoes. Dean blinks at Cas and smiles before turning to find three sets of eyes staring back at them. Castiel places his hand again on the small of Dean’s back in encouragement, but Dean can’t help but grin. Marie grins back, her eyes shining, while Paul and the cook both smile and turn quickly back to their business.  

Dean stands quietly and thinks for a moment before striding to the jukebox, slipping in another quarter, and pressing a button. It’s Cas’s turn to grin as the now-familiar tune spills out, but as Dean walks back to him, he takes his hand and asks as gravely as he can manage, "Don’t you want any pie?“

Dean beams back. "I don’t think so,” he says, replacing his hands on Cas’s shoulders. "This is so much better.“

**Author's Note:**

> For a tumblr pal, who asked for a fic based on the song ”Earth Angel“ by The Penguins. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please comment any tw/cw tags you'd like to see applied.


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